


the time Captain America broke Twitter ft. Abigail Bartlet

by mybrotherharry



Series: Just Another Steve with a Sassy Brunette Story [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The West Wing
Genre: Dorito Steve Rogers, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia, Possessive Sam, Romance, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sam is in love folks, Steve finally talks about stuff, True Love, cause people keep ogling his boyfriend, serious objectification of Steve Rogers, why is that a tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24893983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybrotherharry/pseuds/mybrotherharry
Summary: A senior White House staffer is dating Captain America. Josh is swearing off of all forms of exercise. People are sending the Deputy Communications officer star-spangled booty shorts. Steve likes Sam's ass, but probably not as much as he likes Alfredo's chicken salad.All of these things are related.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Sam Seaborn, pre-Donna Moss/Josh Lyman
Series: Just Another Steve with a Sassy Brunette Story [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1393501
Comments: 22
Kudos: 55





	the time Captain America broke Twitter ft. Abigail Bartlet

**Author's Note:**

> I know several of you asked me to write the Bartlets & Steve dinner party story. When I sat down to write it, I realized it would be infinitely more funny to simply allude to incidents around the party without giving away what actually happened.  
>  ~~(because I chickened out).~~
> 
> This is set several weeks after the previous story.
> 
> I hope you'll like this anyway. Our boys are in love. Everything is happy and nothing hurts.

Josh sticks his head into Sam's office.

"You look awful," Sam grins. "What happened?"

Josh steps inside, and he immediately bends over, putting his hands on his knees, trying to gasp air back into his lungs.

"What happened?" Sam gets up, coming around the desk to look at him. "You're sweaty."

"And you're observant," Josh says, panting.

He is wearing joggers and a t-shirt, drenched in sweat. He slowly folds himself onto Sam's office floor and puts his head between his knees.

"Are you having a heart attack?" Sam asks, concerned.

"I don't understand what I ever did to you to deserve this."

"Josh?"

"I hate you so much."

"What did I do?"

"What's the _one_ thing I told you to do yesterday?"

"Get you a meeting with Captain America?"

"Get me a meeting with Captain America," Josh agrees. "You couldn't swing for a _room with chairs_?"

"He's a busy man."

"Because you occupy all his free time by having sex with him."

"In my defense," Sam smirks, handing Josh a bottle of water off his desk, "have you _seen_ him?"

Josh glares at him, but accepts the water.

"He _is_ really busy this week, though," Sam admits. "The only window I could find was at five am."

"Do you know what your _boyfriend_ ," Josh snaps at him, "that _marvel_ of modern science - do you know what your boyfriend does _everyday_ at five am?"

Sam smiles, remembering Steve coming back home all warm and sweaty and hot. "He goes jogging."

"I swear to God, Samuel Seaborn," Josh says. "I will take it through this country's justice system and no, not _one_ jury of my peers will call what that man does _jogging_."

"He's very fit."

"He runs a half marathon around the National Mall in the time most people take to brush their teeth in the morning."

"Yes."

"So I ask again," Josh begs. "Please just tell me what I did to you, cause I can't do this again for our follow up meeting."

"This isn't revenge of the Pharoah, Josh! He genuinely didn't have an opening in his schedule this week."

"Sam," Josh groans.

"Did you send Donna flowers this year?"

"Of course, yes," Josh agrees. "For our anniversary. This isn't about that. Focus, Sam. It feels like my lungs are coming up my throat."

"Stop being dramatic," Sam orders. "It can't be that bad."

"Have you ever worked out with him?"

Sam smiles, his eyes glazing over, taking on a distant look -

Josh makes gagging noises. "Please stop. Whatever you are thinking about right now, just stop. Sam!"

"Did you know there's a ninth pack? His abs? I mean, you've heard of a six pack, right? But I counted them one time and there's nine. Really. I didn't even know that was possible."

"SEABORN!"

"And then I saw this thing online about how he is shaped like a corn chip," Sam leans against his desk, crossing his arms over his chest.

"A corn chip?"

"A Dorito."

"Huh," Josh says in realization. " _Huh."_

"Right?"

"When you think about it," Josh agrees. "He does have a rather triangular symmetry to him."

"It's one of the many things that make me happy," Sam smiles. "The triangular-ness."

"I can't believe we let you write the President's speeches."

"Oh, I do that alright," Sam laughs. "It's just Steve who dries up my vocabulary every time he wears those skintight exercise shirts."

"I think I miss the days when you were keeping your relationship a secret."

"So does CJ," Sam sighs.

"The briefings haven't gotten better?"

"Sixteenth day in a row," Sam nods. "They're still asking about the photo."

"That goddamn photo," Josh groans with a lot of feeling.

Sam can't but help agree with him.

  
*

Every press briefing consists of the same constant thing. Every reporter in the room shouting her name, as though she isn't going to call on all of them by the end of the evening.  
  
"CJ!"

"Susan." CJ points at the blonde reporter during the press gaggle.

"CJ, is the First Lady considering purchasing a motor cycle after riding with the Captain two weeks ago?"

"Oh my god, day sixteen," CJ presses two fingers to the bridge of her nose.

"CJ, it's a valid question!"

CJ sighs heavily before answering, "The First Lady has no plans to purchase a motorcycle even though she enjoyed her ride around the rose garden very much."

"I thought it was Secret Service procedure that members of the First Family aren't allowed to drive an automobile. Is it the first time one of the first couple have driven a vehicle since the President took office?"

"Yes, it is," CJ confirms. "Though the President informs me that it will also be the last time any member of his family will get on a motorcycle, even if Captain America promises to ride along."

"So no motorbikes for Zoey Bartlet then?"

The reporters laugh, as CJ imagines the look on the President's face if Zoey ever got on one of the "deathtraps".

"CJ, does Captain Rogers know that the picture of him riding pillion with the First Lady around the Rose Garden is the most retweeted image on Twitter?"

"I haven't spoken to him about it," CJ says. "But I am sure we can trust Sam Seaborn to keep him updated on world events."

The room breaks into chuckles.

"Chris," CJ points at the brunette reporter from the _Post_.

"CJ, can we hear Sam's disclosure report for this year again?"

CJ rolls her eyes. "Seriously? Guys, come on."

"I just wanna rehash it once so we all can verify we got it right."

CJ accepts the sheet of paper that Carol hands her.

"Sam Seaborn. Yes, here we go. One upgraded, top of the line smartphone, courtesy of Tony Stark. I am told it's the unreleased Stark Phone 8, so if you are nice to Sam, maybe he will let you play with it. Don't quote me on that," she says, and the room breaks out in laughter.

She continues, "One upgraded Stark laptop, also courtesy of Tony Stark as an apology for hacking into Sam's old one. Both are gifts presented to Mr. Seaborn. Neither item will be used by Sam for work purposes and remain unopened in his apartment. Sam also received, from his legions of admirers and supporters, one hundred and fifty seven pairs of star-spangled items of clothing, three hundred and forty eight miniature Captain America shields, several caps, hats, key rings, toys and tokens all affixed with Captain America symbols and iconography. I am told the merchandise is collectively worth eleven thousand eight hundred and forty nine dollars and thirty two cents. The toys are being donated to the DREAMER Children's charity. The rest of the items will be auctioned off after Captain Rogers signs them. All proceeds from auctioning of the signed merchandise will go to the Veterans Administration."

"Which items of clothing?"

"Chris."

"CJ."

"Lingerie. He received star-spangled lingerie in the mail."

"What has he decided to do with them? Are they being auctioned off as well?"

"You sound _very_ curious, Chris."

"Just minding the people's business."

"I am sure," CJ laughs. "The clothing items are also being auctioned off. The details will be announced by the Avengers Foundation later this month."

"CJ," Danny calls. "Will Sam be taking point on the White House's task-force to assist the Avengers Foundation initiative with the Veterans Administration?"

"No, Josh Lyman is spearheading that," CJ is quick to answer. "On an unrelated note: Josh has recently sworn off all forms of physical exercise." Laughter. She continues, "I want to clarify: the White House is taking the potential for conflict of interest very seriously. Any initiatives, missions or other activities that includes the Avengers will not be staffed by Sam Seaborn. If any of you have further questions, I will be happy to address them if you see me after the gaggle. That's it for now, folks. I will see you at the five o' clock briefing."

She exits the briefing room and immediately runs into Sam.

"Seaborn, I swear to God."

"The photo?"

"That goddamn photo."

"In my defense," Sam says. "It was Zoey Bartlet who took the picture. The President's daughter. Really, you should be blaming the president for buying her a camera."

"I think I am still going to blame _you_ for defiling a national icon."

"I did not-"

"And for not telling me that his _awww shucks_ routine is an act, and that the man exists to give me an ulcer every time someone puts a microphone in front of him and gets him started on college tuition."

Sam winces. "You saw that, huh?"

"I did. And you know what? So did CNN, NBC and ABC news."

"Ouch."

"It's been a bad week, but I am not letting it get to me, Sam. You know why?"

"I am sure I am going to regret asking this, but why?"

"Because you learn something new every day, Samuel. For instance, today I learned that if you sleep with Captain America, members of the public will send you sexy booty shorts in the mail. With the flag emblazoned right across the crotch."

"If you must know, I have also got the Westboro Baptist Church protesting outside my house. It's not all sexy underwear and sleeping with a national icon."

"You have a very strange life, Sam."

"No kidding," Sam nods. "But he is worth it. CJ, you have no idea just _how_ worth it he is." Sam pauses. "Plus, you know. The President _loves_ him."

"That's cause the Captain met FDR three times and the President isn't done fanboying about it."

Sam sighs at the memory. "They were still going on about the Brooklyn Mill Owner's Association striking in nineteen twenty one, the last time Leo let the two of them in the same room."

"That explains all the books on the Great Depression that have shown up on Charlie's desk."

"Poor kid," Sam empathizes. "But wanna hear something good? The President hasn't shown Steve his antique book collection yet," Sam points out.

"I know, but our luck's about to run out on that one," CJ tells him. "President's asked Charlie to clear an evening next week so he can have you and the Captain over for dinner. I bet it would be books after the Crêpe Suzette."

"You know what happened the last time we had dinner?"

"You and Abby got drunk on the Truman balcony and sang all the songs from Dirty Dancing?"

"Yes, but that's not what I was getting at," Sam huffs. "Steve convinced the President to record a dubsmash and _scold_ Congress about the lack of effective gun control legislation."

CJ shudders, remembering that hellish week.

"You know what happened after that?" Sam continues prodding.

"Neither of us slept for ten days?"

"Neither of us slept for _ten days_."

"Admit it. You were worried Leo was gonna shoot Captain America," CJ laughs, walking through to the communications bullpen.

"Nah," Sam shakes his head. "He's pretty indestructible. He keeps getting shot and walking it off. It's very stressful."

"Seriously, Sam. How's it going with you two?"

"We're good," Sam blushes. "We're really good. I am actually headed to SHIELD in half an hour."

"Lunch date?"

"Thought I would surprise him with that chicken salad he likes from Alfredo's."

"That stuff's good."

"I'll have them drop off an order for you at the office."

"This is why we like you, Sam. The thoughtful lunch deliveries."

"I thought I was on your hitlist for dating Captain America."

"Yes, but then you offered to get me chicken salad from Alfredo's. I don't joke about chicken salad from Alfredo's, Sam."

"Okay, CJ."  
  
*  
  
"Phil!" Sam calls the moment he catches sight of his friend in the hallway outside the SHIELD gym.

"Sam?"

"Hey!" He walks up to the man and embraces him in a one-armed hug. "How have you been?"

"Good," Phil smiles. "Though not as good as you've been if the rumor mill is right."

Sam flushes and hitches up the brown bag he's carrying so it wouldn't slip through his fingers. "Where is he?"

"Gym," Phil says, falling in step beside him. "We got a new batch of recruits in today and Fury decided they needed to be taken down a peg."

"So they get to spar with Steve?"

"They get to spar with Captain America."

"When do they spar with Black Widow?" Sam asks curiously.

"When Fury wants them to resign quietly and leave the building."

Sam laughs, as Phil punches in the entry code and lets them both in.

They walk in on an intriguing sight.

Steve is wearing his fatigues, and is in the center of the training mats, his back to them. Surrounding him are various agents in SHIELD gear, standing in a circle. Each of them is holding a different weapon. Sam spots a couple of tazers, a few batons, a couple of handguns.

Steve is taking on at least a dozen agents at once.

He is barely breaking a sweat.

"I didn't say he was sparring one on one," Phil chimes in, answering Sam's unvoiced question. "You assumed."

Barton blows a loud whistle and the agents immediately fall on Steve. Their movements are quick, the motions blurry that Sam can barely keep track of who's doing what. He can't imagine the quick reflexes Steve is engaging, the way he is responding makes it look easy but Sam knows it is anything but.

Steve is moving too fast, ducking punches, swiftly side stepping blows while dealing out his own. It's clear that none of the agents have made contact, but Steve's landed several sharp strikes.

In less than two minutes, eight agents are on the floor. Steve quickly dispatches with the other four.

Sam quietly moves the heavy brown bag of lunch and positions it in front of him, his face heating up as he takes in the graceful arc of Steve's movements. His focus is single-minded. Sam doesn't think Steve's even noticed where they're standing. And his ass looks incredible in those training pants..

There's a stray curl of blonde hair falling over Steve's forehead. Sam wants to wrap his fingers around it and tug until Steve arches up and moans in Sam's ear.

"He does this everyday?" Sam asks Phil, his throat dry.

"Almost everyday."

"Where people can see?"

Phil laughs, and gestures at the far end of the room where several agents have gathered to watch the proceedings. Sam can see the actual heart-eyes some of them are projecting at Steve.

"People keep ogling my boyfriend," he says, the words out before he could stop them.

"Your life is full of challenges," Phil is totally laughing at him, the bastard. "Did you see the thing about the corn chip?"

"Phil," Sam huffs, determined to lie. "I do not google my boyfriend."

"You do," Phil laughs. "Perfect triangle, though."

"God, tell me about it."

A loud thud makes them realize the session is over. All twelve of the recruits are panting on the mats, and Steve is slowly untaping his hands. He looks up and spots Sam, his face lighting up.

"Hey, where did you come from?" Steve says, practically bouncing up to him, his skin glowing.

Sam leans in for a kiss, "1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. I brought lunch." He gestures at the bag without moving it.

"Oh this is perfect," Steve holds Sam by the lapels of his suit and kisses him again, smiling against Sam's mouth. "Would you mind waiting a few minutes though? I am gross. I want to grab a quick shower and change. Phil, send Matthews, Framer and D'Connick to phase 2. Everyone else needs another week of basic."

"It's what we were expecting," Phil smiles at him. "Thank you, Captain. I will update their files."

Sam reluctantly lets Steve go into the locker rooms. 

Several members of Steve's fanclub seem to make for the rooms themselves, but Sam glares pretty hard at the one who was undressing Steve with her eyes. She backs off, turns around and rejoins the group at the other end of the gymnasium.

"You wanna go somewhere quiet for lunch," Phil says. "Or do you want to glare at my agents some more?"

Sheepish at being caught out, he accompanies Phil out of the gym and into a small conference room nearby.

"You guys can eat in here," Phil says. He signs into the room's computer and quickly taps in a new reservation. "The cafeteria will be crowded and noisy at this time of the day. You probably are sick of being stared at by now. Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"It's good to see him so happy," Phil tells him quietly. "I know a lot of it is because of you."

"He makes me happy too."

"Things are going to get hard again," Phil points out. "Barnes' trial is soon, and you know they will call to investigate the White House's involvement."

"Where _is_ Barnes, by the way?" Sam asks. He hasn't seen Barnes since that day he and Steve cried on each other in Sam's living room.

"He is somewhere in the facility, possibly stalking Rogers," Phil says with a bow of his head. "Or trying to eat all the pies in the kitchens. It's a toss up, frankly."

"The World's Deadliest Assassin," Sam laughs.

"You haven't tried our Wednesday peach cobbler, Seaborn," Phil says, one end of his mouth nearly curling into the beginnings of a smile. "You would understand if you did. Anyway, did you hear what I said? About the investigation?"

"I know there's a subpeona in my future. We're prepared, Phil. Josh's been doing nothing else except run meetings with the White House Counsel's Office."

"I hear he's also been doing running of a different kind."

Sam laughs. "He's sworn off all forms of exercise."

"Did you set him up?"

Sam doesn't answer, but stares blankly in response.

"Seaborn, you devious son of a -"

"He sent Donna flowers again," Sam says. "For their not-anniversary."

"Ouch."

"She was upset enough as it is," Sam points out. "She hasn't thought of the douchebag ex-boyfriend in a long time, and every year Josh sends her flowers and -"

"No, yeah, I mean, I know the story."

"She cried on CJ in the ladies room," Sam admits. "I figured he deserved it."

"Remind me to never hurt your friends."

"Nah," Sam laughs. "We've all got a soft spot for Donna Moss. Phil, why don't you stay for lunch? I brought enough for three. I always bring enough for three. I assumed Barnes was hanging around Steve, haunting the rafters and trying to traumatize SHIELD agents."

"He is," Phil laughs. "But thank you, but I gotta drag Barton to Medical. I've got thirty minutes before I lose my window."

"Sure, you tell him I said hi."

Sam's just unpacked the takeout containers when Steve walks in, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

He sits on the chair and pulls Sam on to his lap, putting his arms around his neck and kissing him.

"Hi," Sam whispers.

"Hi," Steve answers. "I missed you."

"You saw me this morning."

"I still missed you," Steve smiles against his lips. Sam turns around, putting his knees outside of Steve's on the chair, and straddling Steve's hips.

He curls his fingers into Steve's hair and kisses him again, uncaring of how messy he is getting him. Steve grinds his hips against Sam's, and they both pant -

"This is a very bad idea," Sam whispers.

"There's cameras everywhere," Steve agrees. "I am pretty sure Fury broke OSHA regulations and put them in the bathrooms too."

"Fucking Republicans and their obsession with the surveillance state," Sam mutters, swallowing Steve's moans into his mouth, exploring with a persistent tongue.

Steve pulls back, but he is laughing with his eyes. "Do you always blame Republicans for everything?"

"They _are_ usually to blame," he says, reaching below him with a hand to undo the clasp of Steve's jeans.

"Oh I see," Steve laughs. "This wasn't a lunch surprise. This was a booty call."

"I can stop if you would like me to," Sam mocks. "I am sure you would rather eat your chicken salad instead of make out with me in a SHIELD conference room."

This, unfortunately, is the wrong thing to say.

"Chicken salad?" Steve says, immediately distracted, looking around Steve's torso to catch sight of the logo on the bags on the table. "You went to Alfredo's!"

"I can't believe I rate below chicken salad."

"You went to Alfredo's!" Steve grips both of Sam's hips and bodily lifts him off his lap, putting him on the desk. Then he propels himself forward, wheeling the chair closer, pressing himself between Sam's dangling legs.

Sam rolls his eyes, "And I am sure you and Alfredo's will be very happy on the couch tonight."

"Don't be like that," Steve laughs, well aware that Sam can't resist the warmth of his skin. "How did you convince Alfredo's to serve chicken salad to go?"

"I abused your powers for evil and said it was for Captain America."

"Chicken salad that good can't be evil," Steve reaches for the plastic container and flips the lid open. Sam hands him a plastic fork and keeps the other one. Both of them start eating from the same container, alternating between taking a few bites themselves and feeding the other. It's incredibly intimate. Sam's discovered lately that he loves nothing more than watching Steve eat.

"Thank God HYDRA didn't know Alfredo's chicken salad was your one true weakness," Sam laughs, feeling contentment spread through his bones.

He can't remember the last time he had been this happy.

"I love _nonno_ Alfredo," Steve says around his mouthful. "But the man is entirely unreasonable about what is allowed to be put into a to-go box."

"Something about eating perfection off of cardboard."

"I swear, I started dating you for your Alfredo wrangling skills."

Sam huffs, taking a bite as Steve holds out another forkful of salad.

" _You_ didn't start dating me," Sam points out. "You didn't start anything. You showed up at a protest and caused a media circus. I decided I like that in a man. So _I_ asked _you_ out on the phone."

"I get it now. You're in this just for my organizing skills."

"That and your ability to break Twitter."

Steve winces, "You know, I sent CJ a nice fruit basket."

"The press corps are still obsessed with that motorcycle."

"Bucky fixed it during the war," Steve says, and Sam holds his breath. Steve _never_ opens up about the war. Ever. This is a Momentous OccasionTM.

"He did?" He prompts, hoping to hear more.

"It was a battered old thing, even then," Steve says. "Colonel Philips had it lying around, and when we got back to base, Bucky took one look at it and fell in love. He spent a week bringing it back to shape. He was a decent mechanic. Always used to say he was going to get a diploma and go into business. Howard said he'd give him a job. After I - after the ice, I heard the bike had fallen into private hands, but Tony bought it for me for my first birthday in the twenty-first century."

"That was nice of him."

"Yes," Steve agrees with a wet chuckle. "When I said that to him, he picked a fight with me about something stupid and made me punch him."

Sam rolls his eyes, accustomed to the Avengers and their emotional constipation. "So what did you do next year when he gave you a present?"

"Pretended like it wasn't a big deal, brushed it off and never mentioned it again," Steve answers. He's always been a fast learner.

Sam reaches for a second box of salad and opens it, handing it to Steve. "I bet nobody got punched that year."

"Only Clint," Steve laughs. "But that was really his fault. How long do you think they're going to be obsessed with the photo?"

"It's not so much the photo as it is the First Lady wearing a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle in the Rose Garden with Captain America riding pillion. There's no context for that."

"She's a firecracker," Steve blushes. "I really - erm, she is - she's something."

Sam reaches out with a hand to caress Steve's cheek, pulling him closer, happy to have Steve between his legs, both of them eating out of the same container. "You can admit the truth, Steve. It's okay."

"Alright," Steve swallows. "She _scares_ me."

"She scares _everyone_."

"She reminds me of my mother."

Sam says quietly, "you don't talk much about her."

"She was beautiful," Steve says. "You know, everything before the serum is sort of blurry. It's weird, cause I can perfectly recall everything after - there was this yellow cab door when Erskine's killer was shooting at me, and I remember how yellow that door was. It was really bright, and it was the first time I could see color vividly."

Sam quietly takes Steve's hand in his, setting the container on the desk.

Sam isn't sure if he should tell Steve that the wrenched yellow car door is at the Smithsonian. It's part of the Captain America legend. He decides to save that tidbit for another day.

"But sometimes," Steve continues, swallowing, "Sometimes, I think I am forgetting her face. Just, little details. I was drawing her the other day and I couldn't breathe because I couldn't remember if she had a dimple in her chin. I think she did. But then, I am not sure."

"Oh Steve," Sam puts his arms around Steve's head and holds him close, Steve's face against Sam's stomach.

"She was a nurse," Steve tells him. "She worked a lot of night shifts. But money was tight and I was sick _all the time_ , so she got a job as a private caretaker for this rich family. She went in the afternoons. The only time I'd see her were the mornings. I'd let her sleep and make breakfast. We'd eat toast or oatmeal out by the fire escape. Then she would leave for work, and it would get too quiet in the apartment."

"You were alone?"

"Bucky was around most of the time," Steve tells him. "Mom did her best. I never went too hungry or too cold. We were happy."

"Steve."

"I think she would have liked you," Steve says into Sam's shirt. "I am sure of it. The way you are passionate about things, your intelligence - you are a lot like her."

Sam flushes, "I am flattered. She sounds like an amazing woman."

"I wish I could remember her."

Sam says silent, an idea forming at the back of his mind. If he is remembering right, (and he _is_ , he spent years studying everything there was to know about Captain America), the National Archive should have a picture of Sarah Rogers with James Buchanan Barnes, age 14; donated by Rebecca Barnes in 1969.

Sam makes a mental note to call his friend at the Archives just in time for Christmas. It would mean the world to Steve, and in Sam's opinion, everything in the Archive related to Captain America should be returned now that Steve's alive. He _needs_ to talk to the President about returning at least his personal effects.

"Steve," he puts his hands on Steve's cheeks, brushing his thumbs over the soft skin, "Sweetheart. I am so grateful you chose to share that with me."

Steve flushes and looks away.

"It's just that," Sam tries to say. "It's just that you never speak about her. I thought it was hard for you, and I understand that it is. I am so glad you told me, though."

"Having Bucky back unlocked a lot of things," Steve admits. "Besides, you've been wonderful with him. You don't mind if he needs a little extra attention right now. Any other boyfriend would have - I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't -"

"Hush," Sam kisses him gently on the lips. 

"I am serious."

"I know you are," Sam accedes. "But the truth is, I have adored James Buchanan Barnes long before I met you, Steve Rogers. Don't go around thinking this is about you." 

Steve laughs, beautiful and loud and golden, and Sam congratulates himself on making it happen. "Just like old times," Steve says against Sam's lips. "My dates always preferred Bucky, but were stuck with me."

"Steve," Sam says urgently because he needs to correct this _right now._ "I only want you. You're not second choice. You're the man I want. I just want my childhood hero to be okay too."

"I know," Steve nods. He runs his fingers through Sam's hair, soft and kneading. "I swear I didn't mean to spoil our lunch."

"You didn't," Sam kisses him again. "I want to hear more, but I do have to get back to the office." He reaches around for the last unopened container of salad. "Where do you think he is?"

"Oh, probably skulking around in the elevator shafts," Steve rolls his eyes. "He's been tailing me everywhere. Just leave it with me. I am sure he will eventually emerge from his hidey-hole to eat lunch."

Sam passes the last container to Steve and throws the rest of the trash in the empty bag.

"So the Fist of Hydra is now protecting you from star-struck SHIELD agents?"

"Seems like it," Steve kisses him again. "Get back to work. I'll clean this up. Tell the President I said hi. Did Josh apologize?"

"He hasn't realized yet."

"Well, if it helps, I go jogging everyday."

"No, and I agree with Josh on this, no jury will ever call what you do _jogging_."

"So you've said. Bring Donna around for dinner, why don't you? She needs the company. Besides, she said she'll teach me how to win at poker even though I can't lie to save my life."

"She is a terrible influence on you."

"You've said that as well."

"Just curious," Sam says as they step out of the conference room. "Don't read too much into this. It's barely of any significance. Would you consider wearing a burlap sack while sparring?"

"Can't be comfortable. Why?"

"No reason," Sam says blankly. "No reason at all."  
  
~

**Author's Note:**

>  _nonno_ means 'grandfather' in Italian. Nonno Alfredo is based off a kind, elderly gentleman I knew when I lived in California. He had very strict rules about which items on his menu he would allow you to "take away". He also made the best vegetarian eggplant parmesan in the Bay Area.
> 
> How are you, all three of my readers? Come say hi in the comments :) 
> 
> I am [on tumblr.](https://baffledkingcomposinghallelujah.tumblr.com/)


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